Illogical Love
by VulcanGem
Summary: An emotional Vulcan boy named Suban flees his home world before he is to perform his first mind-meld with his new fiance. He runs into an outcast Klingon teen who helps him overcome his fear and teaches him what it is really means to be Vulcan. Features a cameo by a favorite Enterprise officer.


Illogical Love

Suban pulled his hood low over his face to cover his tell-tale eyebrows and pointed ears. If anyone saw him in the space port, he wanted them to assume he was human. Escaping the planet Vulcan had been easier than he expected, but now that he had made it to Earth, he was at a loss for what to do next. Never having left the planet of his birth, the young boy was amazed at the cool air and blue sky. He stood in the middle of the port, staring at the white wisps called clouds. One of them faintly resembled his pet bear back home.

 _No,_ he thought, _That sort of illogical thinking is the reason you are exiled in the first place. It is a mass of water vapor, not a sehlat._ Holding back a sigh, Suban adjusted his cloak and trudged into the street.

The boy was so lost in his own thoughts, he failed to notice the armed man until they had collided. Suban's hood flew back as he hit the ground, mere centimeters from a red beam of phaser fire. The human reached for his fallen weapon and snarled at the stunned child. "Why don't you watch where you're going, you –" His eyes widened when he noticed Suban's unique features, and he roughly grabbed the boy's arm and hauled him to his feet. "You're one of those Vulcan kids." His accent suggested he was not from Earth, although he spoke in the Federation Standard language. "I bet your daddy is a science official, am I right?"

Suban nearly bit his lip in an effort to gain control of his fear. "No," he corrected, "It is illogical to assume that since I am a Vulcan, my father must be –" A hand was thrust over his mouth.

"No matter. Your parents will still pay a pretty price for your return. It is, after all, the _logical_ thing to do."

The boy ignored his captor's taunting comment and closed his eyes in an attempt to focus. As usual, he could not stem the flood of emotions which threatened to overwhelm him. At the forefront was terror. Beneath that, he felt remorse. His father was indeed a logical man, and this was why Suban had no chance of being ransomed. It was against logic to pay money for the return of a son one did not want.

Tears welled in the Vulcan's eyes, and he furrowed his diagonal brow in an attempt to stop the stream before it started. Images raced through his mind: his mother rebuking him for crying, his father trying to teach him to bury his feelings, his friends learning to mind-meld with one another. The fiancé he would have met if he had not fled.

 _Like a frightened human,_ he thought with disgust. The realization that he felt disgust reminded Suban that his decision of leaving his home world had been the best choice for everyone. An emotional Vulcan was an embarrassment to his friends, his family, and himself.

Suddenly, a burst of phaser fire startled the boy from his thoughts. The man who held him hostage crumbled like a wilted leaf, leaving Suban frozen at his side. Eventually, he recovered enough to notice an odd fact; the man had been wearing red. However illogical the rumors seemed, there was a direct correlation with red shirts and premature death in the Federation.

Before he could observe or speculate any further, though, another strong hand pressed him into the shadows. When he tried to protest, the person attached to the hand shushed him, muttering in a language with which he was only slightly familiar. Once they reached the side of a building, he pulled away and whirled on the newcomer. It was an older Klingon girl, one on the brink of womanhood. He was not surprised to see a recently fired phaser in her hand, but he did wonder whether she would soon be pointing it at him. Easily recalling his studies in the Federation Standard language, he voiced his first question. "Why did you shoot that man?"

The Klingon smiled. "I should have known you would find a language we both speak," she said casually, "Vulcans are known throughout the universe for their intelligence."

Suban could not keep the grin from spreading across his own face. "Thank you," he replied with a polite nod of his head, "I am Suban."

The girl did not offer her name, choosing instead to shoot him a questioning look. The ridges of her head rippled as she creased her eyebrows. "You smile," she noted slowly.

Immediately, the offending expression dropped from his face. "I am a Vulcan. Vulcans are ruled by logic, not emotion."

She stepped closer to him and studied him with an amused air. "What sort of Vulcan are you?"

Suban turned away and quoted something his hero, Ambassador Spock, often said, "I will not stand here and be insulted."

As he stepped away, a dark hand reached out and gripped his shoulder. "I meant no offense," the girl said, "I simply have never seen someone like you."

Suban faced her. "I am not like other Vulcans," he explained, "I have –" He paused, searching for the right word. "Faults." Even speaking the sentence aloud hurt him more than he cared to admit, and no matter how he tried, he could not bury the pain.

"Forgive me, I didn't mean to hurt you. We may be more alike than you realize." The Klingon raised her hand and spread her fingers in a traditional Vulcan salute. Out of respect, Suban returned the gesture. "I am called Hom."

The Vulcan raised an eyebrow, a traditional sign of skepticism among his people. "That is Klingon for 'weakling,' is it not?"

Hom nodded, clearly impressed at his ability to understand her native tongue. "Yes," she admitted, "My people have been a warrior race for centuries. Many of them still cannot believe we are finally at peace with the Federation." She locked eyes with him. "My parents were two of those 'many.'"

Suban could not pull his eyes away from hers, feeling at the edge of his mind a small shrivel of sadness which did not belong to him. He idly wondered if his telepathy was finally beginning to develop or if he simply knew how the girl felt because he felt the same. When she continued, his thoughts refocused once again on her story.

"When they realized I would not fight like the other warrior children, my father and mother named me Hom, saying I was pathetic and weak." Hom shook her head. "They were wrong. I am strong in ways they will never be."

"You shot that man," Suban pointed out, "That was not the way of a weakling."

Hom shook her head. "Sometimes, violence is necessary to keep the peace. You were in danger; I wanted to help. There was nothing else I could do at the moment besides fire."

"Ah. So it was a purely logical choice." For some reason, this did not sit well with Suban. As a Vulcan, his actions were supposed to be dictated by logic, but because of his special circumstances, this was usually not the case.

The Klingon girl's brown eyes twinkled. "Not purely," she confessed, "You looked rather lost, and I enjoy helping wayfarers find their way. So, Suban why are you here all alone?"

There was a long pause in which Suban wondered whether he should tell her the truth and, if so, how much. He answered vaguely, "I left Vulcan."

"I can see that," Hom teased, "but why?"

Suban sat down on the lowest step of a nearby building, suddenly feeling weary and homesick. The air here was too thick, and the blue sky was almost blinding compared to the crimson color of home. Hom perched at his side, silently offering him support for the tragic tale he was about to reveal. "You are already aware that I have faults," he began.

"Everyone has faults," Hom protested, "It's natural."

The boy shook his head and steepled his fingers in front of them, focusing all his energy into keeping his feelings from surfacing. "No, I speak of disabilities, deformities, if you will." When Hom did not respond, he continued, "As you know, Vulcans are guided by logic alone. Without emotions to come between them and their goals, they have survived well. They do not feel; they only observe and understand. When they do feel, they are capable (and mandated) to bury those feelings so as to remain uncorrupted by them. I have been born with a fatal flaw."

He took a steadying breath before continuing, "I cannot bury my emotions. My father has tried to teach me the ancient methods of meditation; my mother has given me her calming incense. It is all to no avail." His eyes watered. "I cannot meld with other children as my friends do. I cannot render a victim unconscious with one touch, and yet –" His voice trailed off. "And yet, I am a Vulcan."

Hom gently turned his head to face her and placed a hand on his. "You left because you didn't want to embarrass your family."

Suban nodded. "There is also another reason," he added hesitantly, opening his hand and staring at it. "I am seven Earth years old. It is time for me to meet my future mate and –" He paused, nervous to give voice to his thoughts. "Our minds must meld in order to secure our future joining in adulthood. Only, I have never melded before. I am unsure if I am able."

The pair sat in silence for a while, and Suban wondered if he had shared too much with his new friend. She seemed to understand, and it was so easy to talk with her, not like speaking with his parents. He only wished she could help in some way, but it was impossible. Unless –

"You could meld with me."

Suban lifted an eyebrow. "Are you certain? I have never attempted a mind-meld with another Vulcan, and I do not know how Klingons could be affected by such a connection."

Hom once again took his hand in hers, but this time, she lifted it to her forehead. "If you don't go back to Vulcan and meet your future wife, you could die. It is only logical you return to Vulcan with the necessary knowledge to perform the meld with her once you arrive."

The boy was impressed by her use of logic and by her knowledge of the pon farr, a little known fact even to those who frequent Vulcan circles. "I agree, but I do not wish you injured." The Klingon frowned. "However, I will try if you insist."

Stretching his fingers, Suban's hand met Hom's dark, ridged forehead. "My mind to your mind," he muttered, concentrating, "My thoughts to your thoughts." Instantly, he felt a swirling vortex of ideas and emotions. He could easily identify his own, but Hom's memories and thoughts were still clouded. She must have felt his difficulty because before he lost his concentration completely, she lowered her barriers, allowing him full access into her mind.

Suban saw and heard everything clearly now. He watched as Klingon children beat up Hom simply because they could, and he felt her pain as her parents stood in the corner and smirked. Similarly, Hom observed Suban's friends from a distance and shared his discomfort whenever they asked if he wanted to meld with them. Both of their minds linked together, letting them experience everything from the other's point of view and feel as they felt at any point in their lives.

Finally, Suban pulled his hand free, breaking the meld. Both he and Hom stared at one another, gasping. The boy struggled to keep a smile from breaking out on his face, despite the troubling physical and emotional effects of a first mind-meld. It was a few moments before either could gather their breath enough to speak.

"I apologize for the –" Suban could find no word to describe the encounter except incredible, and this was only a test meld with a friend. He could not imagine what he would experience when he linked minds with his future wife.

"For probing into my secrets and releasing all my emotions and yours at once?" Though the explanation seemed severe, Hom delivered it with a twinkle in her dark eyes.

"Yes, it was as disturbing for me as it was for you."

The Klingon laughed. "It was also amazing," she admitted, "and necessary." She stood to her feet and pulled Suban to her side. "Now, it is time for you to return to Vulcan."

Suban knit his brow together slightly. "My family may not wish my reappearance."

"Nonsense, Vulcan or not, they are your family, and you should be with them. Besides," she added with a mischievous grin, "your lady is waiting."

The young boy smiled a little at that remark. "Hom, thank you. I am grateful for your assistance and your advice." He lifted his hand in the Vulcan salutation. "Live long and prosper, Hom."

"Peace and long life, Suban."

It was nearing the time of his fiancé's arrival, and Suban was nervously pacing the floor. He was too worried about the mind-meld to even attempt disguising his anxiety. When his father called him out to the courtyard, he automatically catalogued an increase in respiration and heartbeat. _It is only logical to be nervous,_ he told himself, _You are going to meet your future wife._

As soon as Suban stepped into the courtyard, he froze. The emotionless expression he had forced onto his face slipped away to display complete and utter astonishment. "Ambassador Spock," he stuttered, "what are you doing here?"

In response, the famous Starfleet officer and diplomat stepped aside, revealing a small girl about Suban's age. While her expression showed no sign of nervousness, her face was covered in a thin sheen of perspiration, and she bounced from foot to foot. "Suban, meet my daughter, T'Kar. I believe she has an engagement with you today."

Suban and T'Kar both raised their hands in the customary salute before slowly moving forward. When they stood only a meter apart, Suban stopped, too on edge to be able to concentrate on anything except the ambassador. _Spock is at my house, observing my meld with his daughter. If I do anything amiss, he will notice, and I will never be able to bury my shame._ He stole a glance at T'Kar, who seemed just as frightened.

"Fascinating," the ambassador remarked, "Perhaps we should allow them some privacy, to get to know one another." The others agreed, and the group retired into the house, leaving the children alone in the courtyard.

Suban was stock still, still afraid to move for fear of upsetting his fiancé or her father, his idol. He stared at the ground, hoping T'Kar would not notice the blush which crept up his face. Then, T'Kar let out a deep breath. "I am glad they went inside."

Her soft, lilting voice surprised Suban but not more than her words. "You are glad? Happiness is an emotion. It is only logical they should leave us alone to become acquainted since we –" He trailed off as he caught sight of T'Kar's raised eyebrow.

"You are right. It is logical, but, nevertheless, I am glad. I would not want my first meld to be observed by so many."

"Your first meld?" Suban's mouth tilted upward in delight.

"Yes," T'Kar affirmed, "I –" She glanced down as though shy. "I do not know if I am able to perform the meld." Her eyes met his. "You know my father is half-human."

"I do," Suban stated, "That is part of the reason he is my hero."

T'Kar furrowed her brows. "Explain."

Suban took a deep breath and told her of his handicap. "Your father found balance between emotions and logic. I admire that and hope to do the same."

"As do I," T'Kar said with a tiny smile, "You see, my mother is also half-human."

The boy allowed himself a grin. "So, logically, you are half-human, as well."

"I am one quarter human on my father's side and one quarter human on my mother's side, which makes me half-human," she agreed, "Being such, I am the logical choice to pair with you. I believe our parents planned it this way for that reason."

Suban's grin widened as he held out his index and middle fingers. "I am glad."

T'Kar smiled back at him and touched her two fingers to his. "As am I."


End file.
